Jazz's Creation Day Spankings
by Abigail Rose V
Summary: It's Jzz's creation Day, and his special somecon has a surprise in store for him.


Jazz woke up and stretched, chronometer alerting him to the fact it was time to get up.

On normal days, the Autobot TIC rose early, so as to attend to his many duties.

Being head of Autobot Special Ops, their best spy, best assassin, _and_ best saboteur meant he never got much time to just take a lazy recharge.

On his creation day, however, Jazz took the opportunity to sleep in, a luxury he never got on any other day.

He was turning 20 million years old today, though with the four million year sleep he had had, he was not sure if it really counted, but he dismissed the thought.

Jazz snuggled back into his berth and resumed recharge.

A joor later, he was shaken awake.

"Jazz!" Prowl. "Breakfast has been waiting on you for-"

Jazz flipped out of bed. "I know man, same story every year. You just need to learn to re-schedule on my creation day!"

Then he sauntered out, brushing his fingers across his soon-to-be-throbbing skid plate thoughtfully.

Some mechs, like Prowl, who glided along behind him, hated the creation day tradition of a spank for every million years you are, from every bot (volunteers only) in the base.

Others, like Tracks and Jazz, loved it.

Ironhide had suggested the Prime be exempt from the rule, but Optimus himself said he was to be treated no different then the rest of his mechs and so received a spanking every year also.

Some bots (Ironhide and Sunstreaker) gleefully enjoyed whacking their teammates mercilessly when they got the chance, others, like First Aid and Mirage, didn't really hit hard enough to be counted as a spank.

As Jazz strolled into the main room, he was not surprised at the strategic way all the other bots had positioned themselves around the room.

Tracks would throw himself across the table when he finished eating, eager to receive his spankings, but Jazz made them catch him first.

It wasn't that he didn't want spanked, he just found it more fun to be chased down.

Whoever caught him got to give him double the amount of spanks then the others gave, over their lap, any implement they wished.

Ratchet had caught him last year, and Jazz had been howling long before the wench stopped leaving dents in his backside.

Seems he had managed to torque Ratchet off the day before, and the old medic just bided his time till the next day to punish him for it.

Ratchet got into quite a bit of trouble, because creation day spankings were for fun, not punishment.

Jazz took his time meandering to his seat, bots eyeing him impatiently while he plotted the best escape route.

Finally, Jazz seated himself and happily drank his favorite flavor of energon: chocolate, of course.

He took his sweet time with that too, draining the very last drop out and then pretending to drink while he contrived the perfect escape, until he was ready.

Then, within the space of a single klik, he had slammed his beaker down and launched into his escape plan.

The bots nearby were already up and grabbing for him before he had even finished slamming the beaker down, they were so prepared.

Jazz spun, leaped, rolled, and flipped his way through the main room, aiming for the air vent in the ceiling.

If he could escape them, the rule was he could choose who, where and with what he was spanked with, but he never did make it, and this year was no different.

This year it was Silverbolt who caught him, grabbing onto him and holding on for all he was worth while Jazz squirmed in vain to get free.

Silverbolt was cheered on as he carried the lightly struggling Jazz to the rec room, seating himself on the convenient chair that was waiting there.

Jazz gave up the pretended struggle as he as draped across Silverbolt's lap, the aerial bot chuckling nervously as he smoothed a hand over Jazz's attractive aft.

Jazz had the luck of being the first creation day spankee they got to spank, and he braced himself for the disappointingly light taps he was probably going to get.

But Silverbolt had taken the wild cheering and hints from the other, more experienced bots to spark, and, having been given Track's crop, swished it down with a loud _crack!_ , making Jazz jump with surprise.

"Good, good swing there ." he panted as Silverbolt swung again, and again, the crop whipping down unmercifully in _the same spot_.

Jazz let out a whimper when Silverbolt kept up the punishing force, squirming in discomfort when the aerial bot commander _still_ didn't move the crop from the same place.

"Try moving it around, don't strip my paint just yet." The saboteur whined pleadingly as they passed the twentieth strike and the little stripe of white fire on his rear was not going to respond well to any other swats being placed there later.

"I'm sorry." Silverbolt still sounded nervous. "Am I hitting too hard?"

"No, not at all!" Jazz assured him, careful not to let a singe tear slip. " You just need to lash my whole aft, not just a piece of it!"

"Oh, okay." Silverbolt followed instructions exactly and soon Jazz's whole rear end was smoldering, the spy yelping pleasantly with every stroke, after assuring Silverbolt that it felt _sooo_ good, he just couldn't keep quiet.

Jazz shrieked only once, when the crop burned that little tender spot and Silverbolt stopped, upset that he may have hurt Jazz, but the others assured him Jazz was quite vocal and it didn't mean anything when he shrieked like that.

Which wasn't exactly true, but anything to calm Silverbolt and get him to finish the job.

Jazz actually enjoyed the crop; it stung so much more then a regular spanking, without leaving all that much more damage.

"Get his thighs on these last ones." Tracks hollered to Silverbolt, who had only eight swats left.

Silverbolt obliged, and as the crop bit into those tender areas, Jazz howled with delight and arched his back as he gripped Silverbolt's knees tightly, slamming the tips of his peds into the floor hard.

Silverbolt froze, and only continued after everyone, Jazz included, encouraged him to keep on.

Even though it stung like pit, he wanted it to keep going until it stopped hurting, which he knew would happen long before today was over.

Jazz let out a wail with every strike, wriggling around in Silverbolt's grip, thankful the aerial bot didn't stop to question him anymore, but merely whipped him even harder when he cried out, something Ironhide devilishly suggested.

Jazz kicked his legs desperately, the pain feeling so _nice_ as it spread across his thighs to join the burn in his aft when Silverbolt licked the sitspots with just the tip.

He would be dripping lubricant and begging in no time if Silverbolt could have kept it up, but all too soon, his spanking was over and he had to wait for the next bot on Prowl's random choosing list.

Jazz let out a strangled sob when Silverbolt set him on his feet.

Silverbolt looked at him closely. "Did you really enjoy that?" he asked doubtfully.

For reply, Jazz turned around and bent over. " Go on, keep that up while Prowl takes his sweet time- _OW_!"

Ironhide had taken possession of the crop, and he swung it neatly to bite that little glowing hot stripe on Jazz's rear.

"Ironhide!" Prowl snapped as the sadistically grinning red warrior gave Jazz's skidplate another harsh lash before the saboteur had time to so much as move.

Jazz shot back upright, hopping slightly and rubbing his aft, glaring at Ironhide in mock anger.

"You nearly sent me to my knees 'Hide!" he complained, rubbing furiously at his rear before his hands were taken away and gently held above his head.

"You getting it yet?" Tracks cooed in his ear, reaching a servo down between Jazz's slightly spread legs and gently stroking his codpiece with one finger. "This was supposed to have been removed, remember?"

Jazz was silent; though he had begun trembling as he obligingly spread his legs some more.

Tracks popped off the covering that protected and hid Jazz's interface panels, and stroked them instead as he handed the codpiece off to someone.

The panels shuddered as they tried to retract, Jazz whining while forcing them to stay in place, a small trickle of glowing lubricant leaking out already.

"I'd say Silverbolt did you good." Tracks licked at the glowing drops as they dripped down the inside of Jazz's warm thighs, the smaller bot squirming slightly and biting his lip to hold back the whimpers.

"Let us see." Tracks was roughly shouldered aside by Blaster and a few other eager bots.

Jazz proceeded to hold still, arms above his head, watching as a few more bots rubbed and poked around his interface panels, seeing if they would open yet while he held back his moans of pleasure and frustration as they gently tried to coax him open.

The rule was, on the bots that indicated it, whichever bot got the spankee's interface panels to open up on his creation day was allowed to interface with him.

Ratchet had come up with that, after watching Tracks beg and beg for someone to frag him while he was being spanked one year.

Not all bots were aroused by spankings, but the ones who were, were thankful for Ratchet's proposal, and accepted it eagerly.

"Alright, Warpath is up next, and Tracks put that crop away. You know it's not allowed to be used anymore." Prowl scolded the blue saboteur, who was swishing it suggestively against his own thighs.

Tracks pouted, but obediently subspaced the crop.

Jazz carefully stepped clear of the bots trying to coax his panels open, and gracefully laid himself over the table, not even twitching as his hands were cuffed to the surface.

Warpath bounced up, chuckling gleefully. "I'm gonna make you scream, Jazz!" he giggled.

"No you won't." Jazz returned, wriggling his aft invitingly.

Jazz never screamed, not until he was being 'faced after a hard spanking.

If he screamed before then, the spankings would end, as it would be too much.

Jazz may be vocal, but he wasn't Starscream.

Lots of bots wanted Starscream, but since they never could catch him, they could never try out their dreams of spanking the attractive seeker.

Jazz was the next best thing though, and Jazz was always sore for days after his creation day spankings, which was "part of the fun!" as he himself insisted.

Bots weren't really allowed stroking or otherwise simulating arousal in the bot being spanked, or else they would be yanked from their turn, but some of them did still try, craving the chance to 'face with the striking and talented Jazz.

So Warpath thought he was being sneaky when he ran his hand seductively over Jazz's rear, grazing the white-hot stripe just barely, on pretense of checking for damage.

"Warpath!" Prime scolded from where he stood, not buying the obvious lie. "Desist at once!"

Warpath flinched. "Yes sir." He said, and raised his hand.

Jazz braced himself.

 _SmackSmackSmackSmackSmackSmackSmackSmackSmackSmack!_

The first ten landed hard and fast, Jazz hopping slightly from one foot to the other, whining quietly, and softly yelping on every other one.

Warpath avoided the tender area on Jazz's rump the first ten, but the next few landed squarely on it, making Jazz first gasp, and then groan loudly as Warpath's steel palm cracked ruthlessly on it.

Jazz kicked furiously as Warpath gave him all he could, trying to make him cry, but Jazz held back his tears.

Warpath hit slower on the last ones, then abandoned the nearly smoking strip on Jazz's skidplate and attacked his thighs at a rapid rate.

Jazz almost let a tear slip out, but didn't, and focused on keeping his interface panels closed tight, even as Warpath managed to sneak a finger down between his legs and feather-light stroke the quivering panels.

"He's cheating!" figures, Bumblebee had spotted Warpath's little trick, and he only had two to go.

"I don't care, let him finish!" Jazz's voice quavered, but he got his wish as Warpath sharply landed the last two on his sitspots.

Warpath was then escorted out of the room by a livid Ironhide, who made it no secret he planned on being the lucky bot to interface with Jazz today.

Warpath was glaring heatedly at Bumblebee, who stuck out his tongue and got scolded for it by Perceptor as SeaSpray was called up.

Jazz rolled his optics and dropped his head onto the table with disappointment.

SeaSpray wasn't very good at spanking, better at giving cuddles after a punishment then giving one.

Sure enough, the light swats Jazz received may as well have been tickles, and he cycled air thought his vents loudly, making SeaSpray flinch.

"Nothing against you buddy, but you really need to hit harder." Jazz informed him sourly, crossing his ankles, making Ratchet tap them back apart again.

SeaSpray held his hand in the air a second.

He had one swat left.

"Give him all you got, SeaSpray." Ratchet commanded as he stood back from re-spreading Jazz's peds.

Gulping, the submarine pulled it all the way back and hit Jazz's black skidplate hard.

Jazz hadn't been expecting this, and he let out a startled yelp as he jumped.

"That better?" SeaSpray asked nervously.

" _Much_ better, thank you." Jazz informed him, wriggling his hips a bit, hoping to encourage the next bot to be a bit more creative with it.

Jazz let out a groan as he heard Prowl smack himself with his datapad.

That could only mean one thing: the tactician was up next.

Jazz dropped his head onto the table once more and sighed dramatically.

"Why couldn't we just select the fun bots?" he complained loudly as Prowl landed firm swat number one on his already sore aft. "Prowl is no fun at all."

Prowl landed the next slap, while the other bots also sighed.

Jazz twisted his head around to glare at his best friend. "Come _on_ , Prowler, put some strength in it, do something other then just get it over with!"

"I do not enjoy this, Jazz, and you know that." Prowl responded tightly, stiffly swatting him again.

"Really?" Jazz didn't believe that for a second.

No one was forced to spank anyone on creation days; you had to volunteer for it.

"But if you want harder…"

 _SMACK!_

"Oww _wwwww_! Th-that's more like it man!" Jazz whimpered as Prowl slapped him with just the right amount of force in the just the right place, sending tingles through his whole body with it.

 _Smack!_

This one was not quite so hard, but still nipped him right on a sensitive transformation seam, and Jazz arched his back as Prowl's smooth fingers somehow glided across it suggestively without anyone noticing, one slipping inside just a little as Jazz opened it a crack just for that purpose.

The next few swats were a tease, flicking across his upper thighs with practiced ease, making Jazz pant and forcibly keep still as those ninja fingers clipped his interface panels with every backstroke.

Prowl had activated a slight magnetism in his fingertips, which strictly speaking wasn't against the rules, but still….

"Owieyesnoo!" Jazz squealed as he almost let loose his grip on his panels when Prowl smartly spanked the under curve of his rump, fingers sliding under further as he swiped his hand down.

Prowl slowly increased the force of his swats as he made Jazz count them, Jazz writhing in delight with every well-place spank and moaning blissfully.

When they reached the nineteenth, Jazz waited in terrible anticipation for the last one, and waited, and waited.

"Prroowwllll…." He whined unhappily, wriggling his rear and glancing back at a motionless Prowl.

Prowl ignored him, turning anxiously to Prime. "We've got company." He reported tensely.

"Affirmative."

"S-Soundwave?" Jazz gulped as he whipped his head around and saw the blue Decepticon telepath crouched in the overhead air vent, watching him through that emotionless red visor. "H-how long have you been wa-watching?" Jazz squeaked as Soundwave dropped neatly next to him.

The Autobots seemed too stunned to move as they watched Soundwave glide practiced hands over Jazz's trembling body.

"Long enough." Soundwave monotoned softly.

"Er, is someone going to shoot that monster?" Ironhide spoke as if in a daze.

"No, don't!" Jazz yelped as almost every gun in the room suddenly was trained on the now-motionless Decepticon. "Let him watch, join in, even. I've-I've never been spanked by a Decepticon before!"

It was a lie, but few other Autobots knew, and they that did shot him stern looks, Prowl being one of them.

"What's the trick?" Brawn snarled, shoving his way towards Soundwave.

"No trick." Soundwave responded flatly.

"Like I believe that." Ratchet snorted.

Red Alert came back in.

No one had seen him leave, but he came back in flustered.

"Nothing is on Telatran. Soundwave is here alone." He reported.

"See?" Jazz bit back a moan as Soundwave's talented hands slid over him again. "Let him stay."

"Okay, we'll let him stay." Optimus said, surprising most of them. "Soundwave, step back. It is Prowl's turn right now."

"Soundwave will go last." Soundwave informed the Prime, and stepped back.

"If that's what he wants." Bumblebee shrugged. "I'd say let him have it."

Jazz shot Bumblebee a grateful look.

Bumblebee was also one of the few who knew the secret relationship between Jazz and the Decepticon TIC.

They had never 'faced as yet, but Jazz could bet energon cubes that's what Soundwave was here for.

Jazz was determined to hold out till then, though it wouldn't be easy.

He usually broke a little before the end; he had never made it all the way before.

Of course, he never had a reason to.

He did now.

So he didn't even comment when Prowl left and called up the next bot, Wheeljack, without finishing his last swat.

Wheeljack had gotten Jazz last year, and from the look in his optics, he hoped for the same.

Jazz gritted his teeth.

 _SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK_

Jazz did not so much as whimper from the well-placed smacks, and he heard Wheeljack groan in frustration as he kept his silence.

"Come on Jazzy, where's your usual fire?" Wheeljack moaned as he tried everything to get a response from Jazz, but nothing.

Finally, he whacked the cooling strip that Silverbolt had whipped so well.

"Aghch!" Jazz spat out, jerking forward.

Wheeljack hadn't just hit, he had _pinched_ when he did it.

Wheeljack repeated the treatment, and Jazz yelped again.

Wheeljack had given up making Jazz open his panels for him by now, but he was making the assassin pay for it with every ruthless _SMACK._

A tear forced its way from Jazz's visor, followed closely by another as he writhed in near-agony.

"He's crying now!"

"Give it to him, Wheeljack!"

"Don't break him yet!"

Wheeljack gave Jazz one last smack, a very gentle one, and Jazz was confused, panting through his mouth and all his vents in an attempt to cool the fire in his skidplate.

Then Wheeljack bent over and kissed Jazz's skidplate, and the whole room erupted in whistles and hoots.

A laughing Ratchet removed Wheeljack and escorted him out to join Warpath, since kissing the rear of the spanked bot was also against the rules.

Jazz was certain he heard Wheeljack yelp, but he couldn't be to sure as he let out a yelp of his own at the same time.

Prowl had suddenly seemed to remember he hadn't finished, and had smacked the spot Wheeljack kissed with more then necessary force.

"Prowl!" Jazz choked back a sob.

"Slingshot!" Prowl ignored Jazz's complaint and called up yet another aerial bot.

Jazz wiggled in anticipation.

 _Slingshot should be good with this_.

"Can't I have him over my lap instead?" Slingshot complained as he surveyed Jazz laid out before him.

"I don't know." Prime stroked his chin. "Prowl?"

"If Jazz wants it." Prowl said, and smirked.

"Yes." Jazz gave his consent, and his wrists were freed.

Slingshot guided Jazz down over his lap as the rest of the bots snickered, and Jazz snuggled into him a bit.

Slingshot lifted his hand and smacked it down hard on Jazz's skidplate, a whimper escaping the black and white saboteur, his tears having stopped once more.

Slingshot spanked him again, spreading his finger so as to cover a wider area with every swat.

Jazz moaned softly and tenderly licked Slingshot's knee, the youngest aerial bot letting out a whimper of his own.

Slingshot suddenly wondered if this was a good idea, as Jazz's own slightly magnetized fingers glided between the aerial bot's legs, and began coaxing open the already weakened panels, a obviously practiced glossa licking its way down his thigh.

"Whacha waitin' for?" Jazz hummed seductively as he applied even more pressure with his now-glowing fingertips, turning his head and lapping at the youngest aerial bot's waist.

"J-Jazz, c-cut that ou-out." Slingshot whimpered as Jazz began to slowly stroke the opening panels, turning the magnets on in his palms and rubbing them against Slingshot's trembling thighs.

"If Jazz is being naughty, punish him." Ratchet cooed mockingly from where he stood watching.

Slingshot looked up with wide eyes. "You, you knew he was going to do this, didn't you?" he cried as Jazz forced his fingers up into him and thrust, hard.

Jazz used one hand to rub around the aerial bot's inner thighs, and his other to thrust his talented fingers in and out of the suddenly incoherent Slingshot.

"Poor Slingshot, he's too young to know what Jazz is capable of." Ironhide shook his head in mock pity.

"Um, guys?" a horrified Silverbolt spoke up. "He's…he's never interfaced before. You might want to call Jazz back."

"Oh don't worry youngn'." Ironhide reassured the anxious aerial bot commander. "Jazz knows what he's doin'."

By now, Jazz had slid off Slingshot's lap and was crouched between the moaning bot's legs, rubbing the younger one's erect spike while still simulating his port with his other fingers.

Slowly, Slingshot was sliding off the chair, and Jazz left off his ministrations to lower him gently to the floor.

Somehow, Tracks had slipped up behind Jazz while he crouched between Slingshot's widespread legs, and had knelt behind him, rubbing gently on Jazz's sore rear.

Jazz's engines gave a small hiccup, before leaning back into Track's touch, then bending down and engulfing Slingshot's spike in the warmth of his experienced mouth.

Slingshot moaned in ecstasy as Jazz proceeded to bring him to overload, still rubbing inside his port with his free hand, the other hand occupied in covering his own interface panels and spike housing while Tracks teasingly spanked, rubbed, nipped, nibbled, and licked at the black aft in his face.

When Slingshot sobbed into his first overload, Jazz gulped down the charged liquid, his own body begging for release as Tracks worked as hard as he could to break Jazz into giving himself up to him.

Silverbolt gently lifted his contented companion from the floor as Jazz bucked into Track's grip, loudly crying out as he fought the urge to open his panels.

The two aerial bots vacated the room as Jazz mewled and clawed the floor, Tracks using his crop once more as he pinned Jazz's wrists to the floor with a ped and bent the other saboteur over his knees, stretching out his body as best he could.

Jazz thrashed, his legs kicking like pistons as he struggled to resist Track's coaxing.

Jazz almost lost it when the tip of the crop bit directly onto his steaming panels, howling pitifully when Tracks repeated the move.

"Alright, that's enough!" Hound suddenly charged over, ripping Tracks from Jazz and trying to wrestle him to the floor, Jazz writhing on his back a few kliks longer before he curled into a ball and went still.

"Hey!" Tracks protested as more bots tackled him. "I was in the middle of something!"

"Something you weren't allowed to do." Prime informed him in amusement.

"I clearly remember forbidding you to use that crop again." Prowl said sternly.

"Look, I couldn't help myself!" Tracks pleaded as he was dragged to his feet and hauled towards the door. "I won't do it again! I promise! Just don't send me out!"

"Wait."

Everybot turned towards Jazz, who was kneeling in the middle of the floor, still holding himself gingerly.

"Lemme punish him. Serves him right for nearly overloading me before I was ready."

Tracks began trembling with anticipation.

"Let him have it!" Air Raid crowed, hopping madly from one foot to the other.

Other bots soon took up the cry, and Jazz smiled grimly up at Tracks. "Looks like you get a taste of your own crop, Tracks." And held out his hand for said crop.

Tracks handed it over in somewhat of a daze as the others holding him released the blue saboteur to stumble over to Jazz, who made him kneel then kowtow on the tabletop, with his trembling hands laced together on the nape of his neck, aft elevated and in plain view for everyone to see.

"Is this how creation day spankings always go?" Skydive questioned uncertainly.

"Only when Jazz is involved." Perceptor sighed. "He winds up overloading quite a few bots before anyone manages to take him."

The interior of Jazz's legs were slick and shining with all the lubricant he was producing, and Ratchet made him bend over and spread his legs so he could check his panels.

Then he scooped Jazz under one arm like a football and held him aloft, Ironhide and Brawn spreading his legs as far open as they would go, slowly turning to show off the barely closed plating between his twitching legs.

The old medic fingered him thoughtfully. "Only a few more spankings should do the trick." He announced, then gave Jazz a few playful swats on his exposed rump, making him gasp and try in vain to kick his legs.

"Yep, only a few more should break him." Ironhide agreed while they set Jazz back on his own feet once more.

"I'll hold out longer then you think." Jazz pouted. "You act like I have no self control."

Ratchet just chuckled and stepped back, allowing Jazz full reign over the whimpering Tracks.

Jazz paused, looked around at his audience, and smirked. "Whoever guesses the right number of lashes till Tracks overloads gets to thrash me with his crop!" he announced, and Prowl groaned.

Numbers flew madly around the room, and a grumbling Prowl recorded each and every guess.

"And what if we're wrong?" Cosmos called out.

Jazz winked. "Then I whip you with number you guessed." He promised, and the sound of interface panels retracting uncontrollably was heard round the room.

Jazz was smug that his hastily thought up plan seemed to be working.

He knew he was going to have to overload soon; he simply could not hold out much longer, but he _had_ to overload only for Soundwave, and no one else.

So he figured if he could overload- and therefore eliminate- most of the rest of the bots, he would have a far easier chance of doing so.

Prowl was another one who knew of him and Soundwave's relationship; he figured his best friend would help him out a bit in his efforts to overload for Soundwave today.

Even if the stern police car didn't exactly approve.

Jazz smirked again and raised the crop high, turning back to Tracks, who all but cringed in anticipation.

Then he paused.

"Let's make this more fun." Jazz suddenly decided. "Bumblebee, fetch the strap and get behind me."

Bumblebee fairly flew out of the room and came back in record time, carrying said strap.

He stood behind Jazz, who shifted a teeny bit. "Trailbreaker!" he called.

Trailbreaker came up. "Yes?" he asked.

"Hold me in place." Jazz commanded, and Trailbreaker grinned as he easily lifted the much smaller Jazz from the ground, hovering him where he could easily strike Tracks, but was still in reach of teeny Bumblebee, who stood on a chair for better contact.

Trailbreaker bent Jazz so that his aft was sticking out unprotected and in full view, kneeling so as not to obstruct anyone's sight, holding Jazz, legs spread wide apart, above his head, gripping them firmly so the assassin couldn't so much as wriggle out of his grasp.

"For every strike I give Tracks, give me the same, in the same place." A slightly gasping Jazz instructed an excited Bumblebee. "And hard or soft as I give him, give me."

"Sure Jazz." Bumblebee squeaked happily. "Anything you say."

Jazz drew back his arm once more and let fly at Tracks's gleaming blue skidplate.

 _SWISH_ _ **CRACK!**_ Went the coveted crop on Tracks, and the blue saboteur gasped, his port already clenching hard.

Another _swishcrack_ signaled Bumblebee's strike on Jazz, followed by the spy's whimpered moan.

 _SWISH_ _ **CRACK**_ _SWISH_ _ **CRACK**_ _SWISH_ _ **CRACK**_

After every strike Jazz gave, he got one in return.

Here was where Jazz ran into some trouble.

He needed to overload Tracks, and fast, because Bumblebee was giving him what Tracks got, which meant Jazz was being overstimulated the whole time.

But he needed to be certain he hit none of the numbers anyone else yelled, so they could not spank him with the crop, or he might just lose it.

But to overload Tracks fast, would mean hitting all the most sensitive spots, and since Jazz was already aroused and sore, all those special spots were going to overload him first if he wasn't careful.

And he was worried for another reason too: Grimlock had joined in the guessing, much to everybots' surprise, and Jazz hadn't heard what he guessed.

Jazz had a lot of respect for Grimlock's strength, and he knew being whipped by him would be agony.

He just hoped he didn't land right on the massive dinobot's guess by mistake.

Jazz attacked a few more special spots on Tracks's glossy behind, desperately trying to close his legs to help clamp his panels close, but Trailbreaker kept his legs spread, showing off Jazz's frantic fight to ward off the inevitable, flickering, glowing lubricant forming a puddle on the floor beneath him as it leaked though the shuttering panels.

Tracks was crying out by now, pain/pleasure barrier broken some time ago from how aroused he had been simply by the day's activities thus far, and was starting to beg for more, for harder.

Jazz couldn't ignore his own buddy's pleading, so he gritted his dentals and gave him what he wanted, throwing his own head back and emitting strangled screams as the strap whacked him directly in the ports, right where Tracks had wanted.

Prowl was on the verge of stopping it, but Jazz sobbed to him to let them continue.

Finally, Tracks screamed into his overload just in time, for poor Jazz didn't think he'd last more then a few more strikes.

Tracks fell right off the table as his overload took him harshly, and Jazz almost screamed again, going completely still as he warded off his own overload, sobbing harshly.

Trailbreaker petted him gently, and Jazz gasped at him not to touch him, and the big black bot hastily laid him back on the table again, accidentally setting him in Tracks's mess.

Jazz didn't move, just lay there sobbing as he regained control over himself, Tracks being carried out by several staggering bots, who didn't return.

No one had to ask why, and Bumblebee himself had to make a hasty exit, followed by Trailbreaker, who was covering himself in an attempt to hide his own leaking ports and erection.

Prime was all but holding up Prowl, and it looked like the twins, Ratchet, Ironhide, and a few others had simply overloaded into each other while Tracks was still being treated to his own crop.

"Everyone, shoo!" Ratchet ordered. "Jazz needs a break. He's waiting to overload for someone special, and I don't want him to break until he has who he wants."

Groans of despair were heard all around the room, but Jazz barely heard them.

He peered at Ratchet through his blurred visor, sniffling loudly and vaguely wondering how Ratchet knew.

Soon all but Ratchet had filed out, Soundwave being under close guard, and the medic carefully did a scan over Jazz to ensure he was unhurt from the strain on his internals.

"How did you know?" Jazz whispered as Ratchet gently smoothed sensor gel over his aching rear.

"Jazz, I've known for a long time. You can't really hide much from your own CMO." The old medic chuckled.

"Prowl and Bumblebee know too." Jazz murmured, resting his aching head in Ratchet's hands as he cupped them for that purpose.

"So does Prime." Ratchet cooed gently as he saw Jazz's systems start shutting down for recharge.

"And Sideswipe and Sunstreaker." Jazz mumbled as his visor slowly faded.

"And so do the dinobots." Ratchet softly said right before Jazz fell into recharge. "And they do not approve."

Ratchet was not sure Jazz heard that last part, as the smaller bot was sound asleep.

When Jazz at last booted back up, it had been several joors, and the others were getting impatient.

Everybot who had overloaded already or offered guesses on Tracks's overload were not allowed to spank Jazz, so the crowd of volunteers was significantly smaller, and Ironhide looked like he wanted to deck Prowl for enforcing that rule before he had his chance to give Jazz some swats.

He was reminded of the two lashes he had given Jazz near the beginning, but that just worsened his mood.

Prowl had organized the spankers on one side of the table, where Jazz could see them, the bots Jazz got to spank next to them, and everyone else behind, so they could see his punished aft.

The only bots left to spank him were: Grimlock (Jazz gulped), Soundwave, and Perceptor.

Everyone else had overloaded, already had their turn, were going to get spanked themselves, or had simply not volunteered, of which there were precious few, namely Skyfire, Optimus Prime, and the rest of the dinobots.

"Right. First, those who Jazz owes a spanking to, line up and bend over that table as your turn comes. Ironhide, you're first up to the table."

Cursing and swearing heatedly, Ironhide stomped up and bent over the table, Jazz wickedly grinning as Tracks once more reclenished his beloved crop.

"How many did Uncle 'Hide guess?" Jazz asked, tapping the tip of the crop against the silver rear in front of him.

"28." Ironhide grumbled. "And you won't get me to overload in that short of a-AH!"

Jazz had struck while the old warrior was still grumbling, and he was unprepared for such a stinging strike against his hardened plating.

"We'll see." Jazz kept up a steady barrage of hits, striking all of Ironhide's sweet spots, making him moan and gasp with every one.

Jazz smirked. "So responsive." He cooed, bringing the crop up between thick shuddering silver thighs.

Ironhide nearly let loose with a howl, but choked it back just in time, quivering all over.

"You forget, you're being punished by the most talented interface bot in the universe, bar none." Jazz continued, Ironhide moaning lustily as Jazz stroked the crop teasingly over his now-open panels, wrapping it around his spike and jerking it back. " There is no bot who can resist me when I take it to task to bring him to overload. You may overload,… _NOW!_ "

And Jazz slammed the last of the 28 down so it painfully encircled and yanked Ironhide's aching spike, then whipped across his crackling port.

With a roar, Ironhide overloaded, the charged fluid spraying a good ten feet away.

"I'm jealous." Ratchet grumbled. "He never overloads like that for me."

"Well, you're not Jazz." Prowl consoled the CMO, but only succeeded in making him huff angrily and fold his arms across his chest.

Jazz petted the panting old warrior, cooing tenderly in his audios, until Ratchet came to carry his mate away, giving Jazz a cold glare. "See how you like it when I bring _your_ mate to overload in front of _you_." He growled frostily.

Jazz smiled sweetly. "Oh, but I don't have one."

"Yet." Ratchet warned darkly, then strode away.

Jazz felt a chill creep over him, then shook it off.

He had work to do.

After overloading the remaining bots, Jazz was re-aroused, but not quite as much as he had been.

More then one bot had overloaded before Jazz reached the end of his quota, and he had to stop, but he really didn't mind.

Soundwave was watching him closely, and he had started receiving images of himself draped helplessly over Soundwave's lap, sobbing freely before his lover overloaded him.

All he needed was Perceptor and Grimlock out of the way, and he would be Soundwave's.

 _All_ Soundwave's.

Jazz was bent back over the table again, wrists fastened down, as Perceptor came up to take his place at Jazz's backside.

"I know you are waiting on someone special, and I know it is not me, so I will go quick and easy on you Jazz." Perceptor announced as he flicked the crop, and Jazz twitched.

The spy could feel every optic in the room look from him to Soundwave, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

It was impossible to tell what Soundwave thought of it, unfortunately.

Jazz would have liked to have known his thoughts at the moment, seeing his beloved Jazz bent over and at someone else's mercy most of the day.

Soundwave was fiercely possessive, and Jazz was surprised he hadn't been growling _Jazz Mine_ the whole time.

Perceptor sprinkled light, easy taps over Jazz's sore plating, just enough to make him twitch and grumble, but not enough to really hurt.

Then it was Grimlock's turn, and Jazz felt real fear well up in his spark as Grimlock took the crop and tore Jazz from the table to pin him roughly on his lap.

"Go easy, Grimlock." Optimus Prime warned him. "This is not a real punishment. It is for Jazz's pleasure."

"Grimlock know this. Grimlock also know Jazz in love with evil Decepticon. That must be punished." And the mighty dino warrior whipped the crop down with more force then Jazz had felt all day.

Jazz cried out and kicked, all arousal leaving his body as the brutal punishment continued.

He heard other bots yelling, and more then a few trying to tug him free, but to no avail.

Jazz gritted his teeth and bore the pain as though it were Decepticon torture: _silently_.

Grimlock was not trying to overload the far smaller bot; he was punishing him for what the dinobot leader saw as a heinous crime: loving the enemy.

Which, Jazz supposed it was rather traitorous of him; Prowl would have made a perfectly good sparkmate for him.

But Jazz longed for the kind of kinky relationship Soundwave offered him.

Jazz liked being 'owned', controlled, chained, petted, punished; Prowl would never had even dreamed of such things as Soundwave took for granted Jazz enjoyed.

So Jazz bore the dinobot's wrathful punishment stoically, at least until Prime tore him free and thundered at Grimlock to leave at once.

Grimlock stalked off in high bad temper, and Wheeljack shrank back from the glares thrown his way.

"Are you okay, Jazz?" His beloved Prime asked him softly, carrying him over to Ratchet for inspection.

"Sure. And ready for my last spanking, if you please." Jazz tried to wriggle away from Ratchet as the medic tried to examine his extremely sore rear plating, shrieking when the CMO laid a sharp _smack_! to his burning skidplate.

"Not for a few hours at least." Ratchet said grimly. " You need to rest up before Soundwave even touches you." The look in his optics warned Jazz not to argue, and he wearily subsided, allowing Ratchet to carry him to his own berth and tuck him in to rest.

"I'm staying right here and making sure that telepathic creep doesn't find his way in here to molest you while you rest." Ratchet announced, and posted himself right by the berthside.

Jazz was too tired to come back with a snippy remark, so he just let himself sink into a much-needed recharge, again.

When Jazz awoke, it was to Ratchet wielding a wrench threateningly at a subdued looking Soundwave backed into a corner.

"You're awake." Ratchet sounded irritated. "About time. I've had to fight off this crazy Decepticon almost the whole time. Insisted he could keep watch over you better then I could, thank you very much. I don't think so!" and Ratchet glowered at the silent blue mech.

"Well, I'm awake now, but I'm hungry." Jazz said pitifully.

Ratchet gave him an odd look.

Never in all the time he had known Jazz had he ever heard him say, "I'm hungry," before, much less in such a helpless manner.

The medic noticed the spy's visor was trained on the motionless Soundwave, and Ratchet stepped in the way.

"Hungry for what, Jazz?" he inquired.

"Energon." Jazz whimpered.

By now Ratchet was very confused.

Since when did Jazz act like this?

He looked to Soundwave, who had produced a cube of energon and was holding it in both hands.

"Move aside." He informed Ratchet coolly.

"And just what makes you think I'm going to just let you walk over here and possibly poison one of my patients?" Ratchet demanded, making Soundwave flinch as he raised the wrench.

"Aw, come on Ratchet, he always feeds me!" Jazz protested in his normal manner, poking the medic in the leg, since that was all he could reach lying down like he was.

"No." Ratchet was still torqued off at Jazz for the way he overloaded Ironhide. "You can feed yourself."

Jazz pouted, but Soundwave reclenished the energon cube to the CMO without comment.

Ratchet placed the cube by the berth, and waited for Jazz to take it.

Jazz didn't move an inch.

"Either take it or leave it." Ratchet warned.

"Then I'll just leave it and if I pass out due to my weakened state, it'll be all your fault." Jazz told the medic brightly.

Without a word, Ratchet took an injection line and stabbed one end under Jazz's armor, and attached the other end to the cube.

"Ah, well, at least I'm still being fed." Jazz winced as Ratchet commenced the drip feed.

"Jazz, not enjoy?"

Ratchet spun to stare at Soundwave. "What does it look like?" he snapped peevishly.

Soundwave tilted his head to one side, studying the two of them.

"Ratchet, jealous of Jazz." He smugly announced once the cube was half-emptied.

Jazz snorted a laugh. " _Everyone's_ jealous of me, Soundwave."

"Prowl not. Prowl jealous of _me_."

Jazz's laugh died abruptly. "So?" he asked sharply.

Soundwave merely gazed at Jazz, and the spy glowered.

"Fine. I'll make it up to him somehow if it makes you happy." Jazz finally grit out.

"Jazz needs to choose." Soundwave declared firmly, then turned and left.

"Likes to make it obvious, don't he?" Ratchet groused as he removed the empty cube and drew out the drip line.

Jazz winced again. "Yeah. But I thought Prowl had gotten over me a while ago, and was going steady with Sunstreaker, since Bumblebee didn't work out."

Ratchet sighed but said nothing.

"Look, it's not like I'm leaving the Autobots for the Deceptagoons. There is no choosing to be done!" Jazz protested the empty silence.

"I think you know what he means, Jazz. I'd get thinking with that sharp mind of yours if I were you." And Ratchet left.

Jazz lay there for some time after, before finally getting up and making his way back to receive his final spanking.

All the bots made a path for him, and not a one tried to reach out and touch him.

Soundwave was looking menacing by the table, a chair waiting next to him.

Jazz tried to lock optics with Prowl, but the other ninja steadily avoided his gaze.

Jazz's visor dimmed, and he approached Soundwave with a heavy spark.

Soundwave took his chin when he reached the telepath, and tilted his head up so they could look visor to visor.

"Jazz chose?" he rumbled softly.

Jazz swallowed hard. "Yes." He murmured quietly.

Then he turned to the crowd of anxious Autobots. "Out!" he bellowed, waving his arms at the shocked throng. "Everybody, out!"

Prowl's optics found his in that moment, and a grateful look crossed his face before turning and leading the way out.

"Prowl, wait." Jazz called softly.

The tactician hesitated, then turned back. "Yes, Jazz?" he asked quietly as the others filed out.

Jazz waited until the room was empty save himself and Prowl, having sent out an understanding Soundwave.

"Prowl," Jazz began earnestly. " I know how you still feel about me. I still hold fond feelings for you too."

Prowl stiffened, and tears gathered in the corners of his optics, doorwings held straight up in agitation.

"I offer you a choice. If you still desire me fully as your mate, I will send Soundwave packing and never look back from you again. If not, well, Prowl, he's spark-bonding me tonight. I need to make a choice now."

Prowl's mouth moved several times, but no words came out.

Jazz waited tensely for his response.

Finally, Prowl managed to gather his thoughts and speak.

"Jazz, I appreciate the offer, but we both know you would never be truly happy with me. You desire something I could never give. No, it would be best if you sparkbonded with Soundwave, and left me with Sunstreaker."

Jazz bowed his head. "Thank you Prowl. I will never be able to express my thanks fully to you."

Prowl smiled weakly. "Yes you can." he said gently. "Sparkbond with Soundwave and be happy."

As Jazz turned and made his way back to his soon-to-be-mate, his spark felt lighter.

Soundwave's visor glowed. "Jazz, Mine."

Jazz smiled back. "Jazz, yours."


End file.
